What a Tragedy!
by Blitzqueen
Summary: A series of one-shot Transformers-based tragedies; new chapters will be added as new tragedies are written. Rating may go up as tragedies are added.


**Author's Note:** _This is a Transformers: Animated tragedy starring Ramjet, Sunstorm, Shockwave, Blitzwing, Strika, and Lugnut. Within this particular story, Lugnut and Strika are bonded [they are actually my favorite canonXcanon ship.  
_ _The version of Blitzwing being used here is one in which he was three separate mechs-brothers-but they were put into one frame because two of them were on the bring of offlining; a series of one-shots may be made holding all of my Blitzwing ideas in it._

 _Blitzwing Speaking:  
_ Icy  
 _Random  
_ **Hothead**

* * *

Silence had become a common thing within the Trypticon Prison these days—where only the worst of the DeceptiCons were being kept after the war. The bad were kept on the main floor of the prison; the worse on the top floor, nearest the Warden's office; and only the worst were once kept on the lower floors of the prison, each cell having been guarded by two or more Elite Guard members. And it is on these lower floors that we are to be focusing this fine, fine tragedy.

* * *

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._ The sound continues over, and over, and over again as a set of sleek claws tap the desk within one of the many cells of the lower level of the prison, the pattern clear within the light, swift tappings. The AutoBots directly outside of this particular cell appear emotionless—standing tall, expressions completely unreadable—but the slight twitches of their optics give way to growing irritation. They could handle it for a bit, but the cell's occupant had been at it for _megacycles_. And to make it all worse, the very same sound comes from two or three other cells that are within audial-reach of this particular prisoner's.

The DeceptiCons were simply ,chatting' with Morse Code—the 'Bot guards can understand what is being said, but the prisoners are simply looking to annoy their captors. And slowly, oh, so slowly, they were succeeding. The only ones speaking aloud are Lugnut, Ramjet, and Blitzwing—the two aforementioned trying, and failing, to get the Triple-Changer to shut up his rather pointless jokes. Strika, Shockwave, and Lugnut ,speak' through Morse; whilst Sunstorm stands at the energy bars of his cell and compliments his guards. Both of which appear like they want to start pounding their helms against a wall.

Now, the two clones are certainly not some of the most dangerous DeceptiCons out there—but it is simply the fact that they had been cloned from _Starscream_ that the suck-up and liar were placed with the others.

The first one caught had been Blitzwing, by none other than Lockdown. The Bounty Hunter was who-knows-where by now, but he had been paid by Sentinel to start capturing DeceptiCons. The Triple-Changer's prized turrets had been taken as trophies by the accursed mech, and then he had been paraded through Iacon like some trophy for all to see, a muzzle on each of his faceplates to keep him quiet. And now that he is in the prison, well… The AutoBots guarding the cells really wish the muzzles had remained in place…

At the same time, the clones had been captured, as well—by the very same Bounty Hunter, nonetheless. The guards could put up with Ramjet—the Liar—to some degree; but Sunstorm, on the other hand, could be more irritating than the off-key singing to come from their triple-changing ally. Whenever the suck-up was told to shut up, he would go on saying how it would be the most wonderful idea given by the ,oh wise and superior AutoBots.' And they were not the only ones fed up with it…

Lugnut and Shockwave were the ones to have been captured next, following their Lord Megatron's humiliating defeat at the hands of Optimus Prime, the leader of a _GroundBridge maintenance crew_. Shockwave—or ,Longarm', as the AutoBots had begun calling him simply to mock him for his failures now—remained silent much of the time, brooding perhaps. The most sound to come from him is the tapping of the claws of his left servo to communicate in Morse Code, whilst his right etched out rather intricate ,doodles', as he called them, upon the Earth-paper he had been allowed to keep after ending up within the prison. The mech uses large canvas paper, and massive pencils usually purchased by humans due to their strange look and the awkwardness of their size to draw—creating life-like pictures of Cybertron with nothing but dully-colored graphite.

Lugnut, on the other hand, would not shut up—oh, the irony, considering he is yelling for one of the others to do the very same. One of his pincers raps upon his thigh as he communicates with Morse to Strika and Shockwave; shouts right along with Ramjet; and speaks to the only femme present through his bond with her—which the AutoBots are completely unaware of, and unknowing of the scheme the DeceptiCons have in mind.

Strika was the final one of the group to have been captured. Shortly after receiving word of Megatron's capture, Team Chaar—in which she was the General of—had been captured during the distraction of figuring out a way to free their leader. Most of her team is on the main floor of the prison, but Strika, as a General, is one of the highest ranks of the DeceptiCon army, and had automatically been ordered to the lower floors. This whole plan had been formulated between herself and Lugnut, the AutoBots unaware, as they could do it in complete silence, without so much as looking in the direction of each other's cells.

From Sunstorm's maddening compliments, to Shockwave's elegant drawings, to Blitzwing's morbid jokes and songs, and Lugnut and Ramjet ordering him to mute his vocalizer, there is a pattern. The tapping grows louder, and then quiets down so that only jokes can be heard. And then those silence for a while, once more giving way to continuous tapping, before the suck-up pipes up a bit louder yet again. If this had not been planned, or if _any_ other DeceptiCons had been sent into the lower levels, this plan would have to be completely rethought.

And soon, it would be put into action…

* * *

" _Von, two, sree, four—I declare a sumb var!"_ Blitzwing sings from within his cell, thrusting one servo carefully through the energy-bars, careful not to touch them, with his fist open and thumb upright—though, really, just his digits and about half of his servo can fit through, lest he wishes to be shocked. The AutoBots standing at either side of his cramped quarters glance at him from the corner of their optics, resisting the urge to roll them, and simply ignore the hyperactive prisoner. _How_ that mech was a DeceptiCon Lieutenant is far beyond them…

"Blitzwing!" The harsh bark comes from the mech's neighboring cells: Lugnut on the left, and Ramjet the right. An undignified whimper, and the Triple-Changer can be heard retreating back to his berth—everyone flinching as it creaks loudly beneath his rather massive weight despite his size compared to his partner. That sound was audio-grating to all of them…

The AutoBots noticed that the unstable mech's Random counterpart held control more often than usual—although they all figure it is likely a result of the Seeker being trapped within a dark, rather small cell. It was rumored that if Seekers could not get flight every so often, it drove them crazy. In Blitzwing's case: Crazi _er_.

For a while, a rather peaceful silence ensues the lower levels of the prison; the only sound is the slow, rhythmic sound of a soft-point pencil making quick, even lines on paper within Shockwave's cell. _How_ he had accommodated these Earth-items, only the double-agent knew… The AutoBots did enjoy the mech's artwork, despite the fact he had tricked the entire army into thinking he was one of them—it was stunning how he could bring such realism to a picture by simply using differing amounts of pressure with his pencil, and careful, calculated strokes of his awkwardly-shaped servo.

And then, he begins that infernal tapping with his free talons—seemingly without even realizing it… Strika, laying back upon her berth, begins tapping her own thick digits in response, earning a surprised silence from Shockwave, as he seems to realize what he had been doing. A grunt leaves the faceless mech; his servo had jerked, bringing a long, ugly, dark line across his paper, and ruining his latest piece. A sigh, and he swipes it off the small, simple desk that each of the cells had—each sized to fit whatever DeceptiCon is now forced to live within their ,room'.

 _Get de Triple-Changer singing again. I vill get Sunstorm speaking vonce more._ Strika speaks through her bond with the hulking DeceptiCon mech on the other end of the hall, and receiving a simple affirmative in reply.

A loud crash soon follows as Lugnut ,falls off' his berth, and grumbles something to himself. Everyone—including some of the guards—groans when Blitzwing immediately takes the chance to begin singing some human song about ,falling down on the cold hard ground'.

From within her own cell, Strika stands to her massive, clunky pedes and approaches the energy bars that would zap her viciously if she touched them. Broad arms cross over an even broader chest as she does her best to look in the direction of Blitzwing's cell—though from the corner of her optic, watches the one directly across the hall from her: Sunstorm, the suck-up Starscream-clone. A twitch of her thick digits that simply appears to be of annoyance, and the golden clone immediately begins to compliment his guards to death.

Servos rubbing together, and his bright red optics wide, he seems so sincere with his words. Which, really, he is. Ramjet is soon shouting for his ,brother' to be silent; Blitzwing raises his voice so that his off-pitch song can be heard over the ruckus. Soon, Lugnut begins shouting, as well, pounding a pincer upon the wall separating him from the Triple-Changer. Shockwave groans and swipes another ruined picture off of his desk; Strika watching is as well as she is able, as the double-agent's cell is neighboring Sunstorm's. Her optics narrow slightly as it comes close to the energy bars, and…

 _Zap!_

The picture immediately goes up in flames, earning first startled yelps from Shockwave's guards, and then enraged barks and orders to get the flames put out, and swiftly. Shockwave is immediately on his pedes to the sound of crackling fire, his single optic wide and perfectly circular to mimic shock or surprise. Now, usually, fire would not affect any of the Cybertronians unless in or close to it for prolonged periods—but Shockwave had coated the backs with a fine powder before he was captured and sent to the prison, causing the flames to be far too hot for even a Cybertronian to touch without badly singing their circuitry.

All attention moves to the double-agent's cell, so no one notices as Ramjet—who is at the end—reaches his servos ever-carefully through the energy bars of his cell, wrapping his long, sleek claws around the right guard's neck cables, as well as his mouth, so the guard on the left, looking toward Shockwave's cell, would not see or hear the action being taken. "It pains me to do this." The liar states with fake sympathy in his voice, before jerking the mech backward, and into the energy bars of the clone's cell. Ramjet's crimson optics blaze with a fiery anger as he holds his guard against the bars—everyone can hear his screams of agony past the clone's servo, but do not act right away, dumbstruck from the sudden boldness of the Starscream-clone.

"Oh, bravo, bravo, the most intelligent and careful move, Ramjet!" His suck-up counterpart cheers, clapping his servos together, and earning a rolling of his ,brother's' optics. Sunstorm's optics then brighten, as if he is trying to remember something important, before his wings prick upright from upon his back, and he grabs the arms of his nearest guard, pulling yet another AutoBot against the energy bars, whilst Sunstorm and Ramjet both struggle for the key-cards of their captive guards. No one can shoot the clones, as their allies are not only being used as shields, but any longer against the bars, and their sparks or processors could become gravely damaged. And the AutoBots are not the only ones to know this.

"Drop your weapons, great and humble AutoBots!" Sunstorm orders, voice growing hard even though he still continues to spew out compliments. The others simply raise their weapons at the clone, most of them bringing attention to the suck-up as he brings his talons against his captive's neck, threatening to sever the major Energon-lines located there.

This gives Ramjet his chance, finally pulling the key-card free, and shoving the now-unconscious 'Bot away from his cell, the clone begins swiping the card back and forth against the wall right outside his cell, attempting to find where the lock was.

" _Access Granted."_ A mechanical femme's voice comes from the lock, and the bars dissipate to nothing with a sizzle. Before his guards can do anything, Ramjet is rushing to the cell right next to him, freeing Blitzwing, and then sliding the key-card across the floor and toward Strika. She earns a violent zap to her servo, as her servo is far too large to fit through the bars—even a single digit almost is, but she gets the card and hides it beneath the armor of her forearm—simply watching the chaos ensue, now.

 _Did you get the card?_ She can hear Lugnut's voice through the bond, and sends him the image of her having picked it up and hidden it beneath her thick arm-plating. _For the grand and glorious Lord Megatron!_ He shouts to her, earning an inward laugh, and similar message sent back. It was time to free their leader.

A familiar, psychotic laugh gains the femme's attention once more, her optics brightening as she watches Ramjet and Blitzwing fight without the use of their weapons. The Liar uses his sharp talons and wits, whilst the Triple-Changer makes use of his massive weight and oversized servos. They draw attention away from Sunstorm, so that the suck-up can take the card from his own captive, and free himself from his cell, going across to Strika's, and then rushing to free Shockwave and Lugnut. The only problem with freeing the double-agent is that the fire still burns brightly from his paper—Lugnut holds open on of his pincers, and the one-optic mech mumbles something to himself, before taking a running-leap over the flames. He can feel them lick at his pedes, sending a jolt of pain up his legs, but he ultimately ignores it as he feels the massive mech's pincer close around his chest and waist, before setting him down carefully.

Aside from the double-agent singing the circuitry upon the toes of his pedes, that had gone exactly as planned; now they just needed to disable the remainder of their guards—which, truthfully, is quite easy for the high-ranked DeceptiCons to do. Strika and Lugnut do a majority of the damage, swinging their heavy servos—in the mech's case, pincers—against the heads of their adversaries.

No offlinings unless absolutely necessary. They had their reasons.

* * *

Six sets of pedes rush through the hallways cautiously; Shockwave in the lead, disguised as Longarm Prime. Certainly, the AutoBots now knew they had been, well, _conned_ , and thus that ,Longarm' was really Shockwave. But they had schedules memorized by now—if they could get to the main floor within the next short while, the newer guards would be the ones near the doors leading to the lower chambers. And newer meant easier to confuse, even if for just a few short moments.

"Shockvafe." Strika's voice. The shorter mech glances over his shoulder, blue ,optics' and the red light upon his forehead glowing brightly. "Jou haff de papers?"

"Affirmative." Most of the mech's drawings had been subspaced once attention was brought to the clones—the only ones who could fit their arms through the energy bars without getting shocked, so long as they were careful about it.

"Ve need our veapons for zis to vork as planned." Now, Blitzwing speaks—his more logical personality holding dominance for the time-being. "Shockvave, Sir, jou know vere ze veapons-vault is, yah?"

Another nod from the double-agent, before he turns ahead once more. _Of course_ he knows where the weapons were being kept. Having been a double-agent for so fragging long certainly had its advantages in this type of a situation. "Follow me." He orders the other escapees as they make their way to the main level of the prison—from there, they would need to make it to the uppermost floors.

* * *

Time and time again, AutoBots rush throughout the halls of the Trypticon Prison in search of the six escaped DeceptiCons. Sometimes, they hide out in side-halls and watch from dark shadows at AutoBot Elite Guard rush by; other times, if the group is small enough, the 'Cons rush out to ambush them. With the newer mechs, Shockwave, AKA Longarm, approaches them, causing confusion for but a few moments, and giving the more silent-stepped clones chance to come up behind the mechs before they can remember exactly who it is. It was still strange to them that the mech to have been an Intelligence Officer for so long had, all along, been a DeceptiCon spy—and the fact it was still taking some getting used to aided the escaping mechs and mech-like femme greatly.

Shockwave remains in the lead of the group, followed directly by the clones who remain side-by-side, then Strika, Blitzwing, and Lugnut as they make their way to the upper floors of the prison. Shockwave knew this place like the back of his servo—he had studied blueprints and schedules whenever possible whilst still believed to be Longarm Prime. As such, he finds it quite easy to sneak through less-used hallways, taking shortcuts if safe enough, or taking long detours if they were needed.

They are forced to stop, dead in their tracks, at the sight of the warden's office, and the weapons-vault on the opposite end of the hall. The double-agent holds up one servo, and slowly begins slinking forward, listening carefully to the conversation going on within. Only one is present, he can tell, as the other voice has a tad bit of static lining his words; a transmission, it sounds like. Crouching down to one knee, ,Longarm' allows for his arms to slowly begin stretching outward after opening the door just enough for the mech to see what is inside, and for his arms to move through the doorway.

A choking, smothered cry can be heard, and then a single crash, and silence, before Shockwave's arms resort to their usual length once more, and he takes on his true form; using his paint-system to return back to his natural violet paintjob. "He will be down for some time due to damage given to his cranial circuitry upon driving his helm against the corner of the desk." He turns away from the doorway, and the six DeceptiCons make their way to the other end of the hallway.

Once reaching the door—using the key-card in the femme's possession to open it—Strika and Lugnut stand guard, as they have best chance at holding their own without any weaponry, whilst the other four begin a search. One clone—Ramjet—finds an older model of a null-ray, but it would suffice for now; and he also chooses a simple, arm-mounted rocket after being directed to it by the double-agent.

Sunstorm takes up a blaster, and begins studying it carefully, before his digit hits the trigger, and he nearly ends up taking off Shockwave's helm. "My… Most humble apologies?" He states with a nervous laugh and optics shifting to the new scorch mark within the wall. The weapon is quickly confiscated, and changed out with a simpler version without a word.

The double-agent places the very same blaster in which he had taken from the suck-up and places it upon his hip—before five out of six give a groan.

"Hmm… Zis seems zat et vill suffice." The Triple-Changer states, holding up an ice-blue blaster that _clearly_ is meant to freeze anyone that the rounds manage to hit. But his Hothead psyche certainly seems to have other ideas on what weaponry they should use now that their turrets were in a Bounty Hunter's possession. A bit of an argument ensues between two of the mech's personalities, as he is unable to decide between either the blaster, or the flamethrower.

" **No, ze flamesrower!"**

"Ze blaster."

" **Flamesrower!"**

"Blaster."

" _ **Flamesrower**_ **!"**

"Ze _blaster_."

It seems that, once again, Random saves the other two from fighting for megacycles with a wonderful idea: _"Oooh! Vy not take bose?!"_ At that, the Triple-Changer gives a shrug, and subspaces the flamethrower, whilst holding the blaster at the ready; he and the clones take to guarding the vault as Lugnut and Strika enter in order to search for their own weaponry. Both of them are able to find all of their former weapons, unlike the other three, because they are not in the possession of Lockdown at that very moment.

* * *

"They were last seen on the upper floors!"

"What've they done to the Warden?!"

"Find them, _now_!"

"Sir, over— Arrggh!"

"They're com—"

"Look out!"

 _ **BOOM!**_

* * *

"Lugnut, as jour friend has reqvested many a time, giff a bit uff varning before jusing de Punch." Strika is the first to her pedes, rubbing her helm for a moment, before offering a servo each to the half-buried Shockwave and Ramjet, pulling them free with very little trouble. She casts a side-glance at the aforementioned ,friend'—his temperamental psyche holding dominance, mouth open as if he had been interrupted, before abruptly snapping it shut again, and earning a deep laugh from the femme.

"But then the AutoBots would have—"

"True, true. But jou could haff told me, jes? Eet's easy for me to push zese four leetle mechs backvard."

Silence answers the femme's claim, earning another laugh from her vocalizer, and grumbles of protest from said ,little mechs' following her statement.

Ramjet decides to speak his processor: "We are _not_ little mechs!" He protests, before blinking, and dropping his helm into his servo. He realizes that he, as the _Liar_ , likely should not have been the one to protest such a thing. A massive black servo strikes him on the back of the helm, causing the clone to yelp, and the mech in question bursts into crazed laughter before swapping back to his logical persona and awkwardly clearing his intake. Everyone makes silent agreement to continue, whilst the AutoBot guards around them are still down.

* * *

"Lord Megatron—" Shockwave starts quietly, holding up a servo so that the others fall silent and cease their movements behind him, "—is located within a separate prison facility. To free him, we know what we all must do, correct?" Silent nods answer the double-agent, and his optic dims just ever so slightly. "Then we will continue as planned."

All six escaped DeceptiCons make their way in silence through the prison; Shockwave now with all of his papers in servo—they had made it back to the main floor with little trouble. And mostly because of Lugnut's use of ,The Punch'. Freedom is just ahead of them! All they need is to—

"Put your weapons on the ground and servos in the air!"

As soon as they set ped out that door—blown open courtesy of Ramjet's missile—they are met by Elite Guard surrounding them from all sides. As if they had not expected that. Slowly, the DeceptiCons comply—placing their weapons carefully upon the ground, and kicking them forward with servos above their helms. Shockwave places his drawings down as well, all but one of them sliding forward as he drops them. The one to remain near his pedes is one of an intricately drawn ship. And it looks as though it is near another prison facility…

An explosion shakes the ground, though not from any of the escaped DeceptiCons. Well… Not the ones escaped from _this_ facility, that is. A ship takes off in the distance, and upon further analysis, it is the exact one in which the double-agent had drawn out. In fact, all of the pictures he had drawn appear to be important; from a picture of Iacon during the Great War, to the Pits of Kaon where gladiators were once forced to fight. Each one holds a message in which only DeceptiCons, or 'Con-turned-'Bots would be able to read.

All six of them gain solemn expressions as they look to these pictures—even Shockwave, with a lack of an actual face, clearly feels this as his optic dims and narrows ever so slightly, though not with aggression. The DeceptiCon Faction had been created because the AutoBots were unjust, the Council blind and arrogant to the suffering of Cybertron's lower class people. All six of them are with the Faction for a reason.

The clones remained because they are not natural—they would be dissected by AutoBot scientists so that they could find ways to duplicate the process, but with their own kind. Strika is there because she had been raised in the war, and would never be accepted into AutoBot society with her mech-like features and even voice. Lugnut had fallen in love with the 'Con femme, and ended up being one of—if not _the_ —most loyal followers of Megatron. Blitzwing remains because the AutoBots would take away his other personalities—his brothers—in the belief they were helping him. And Shockwave had been mistreated from day one because of his lack of expression, and his knack for picking up information at an amazing rate—what would be better for the 'Bots than to open up his processor in order to see just _how_ this was possible and if they could duplicate it?

They would _never_ surrender to that Faction that had already, or would, wrong them. View them as freaks of nature, test subjects, not fit for society. Different. The AutoBots wanted a society that was well-balanced, and those who stuck out—differed—would be ,corrected'.

Faceplate remaining emotionless, save for the solemn glint to his single optic, Blitzwing removes the flamethrower from subspace before anyone can so much as blink an optic. The DeceptiCons all shout with victory in unison as flames engulf Shockwave's drawings, bringing an intense flame to burn brightly and far too hot to touch. The weapon is thrown aside, and all six of them turn to salute the ship that had taken off in the distance.

Their master was free to fight another day thanks to their simple distraction.

All turn back to the Elite Guard surrounding them, standing tall and proud—even as blasters raise all around them. Though the AutoBots do not understand the pictures to their fullest degrees, the flames that bring them to ashes are a clear signal that these six are still deathly-loyal to their cause.

"Any last words, DeceptiCons?" A blue-armored mech strides forward with his servos behind his back, malice thick within his words. He had seen the ship take off, he had gotten the call from the other facility. Megatron had escaped thanks to these six bringing attention to the Trypticon Prison, rather than the separate one where he was being kept.

" _ **All hail Lord Megatron!"**_ They shout once more in unison—though to call it simply a shout would be a vast understatement. A caterwaul, more like, that seems to roll from the backs of their vocalizers, screaming forth and crackling as they use the highest volume possible without blowing out their own voices. They all raise fisted servos into the air with their victory, Strika curling her thick digits around Lugnut's pincer as they hold them high above their helms. _**"All hail Lord Megatron!"**_

It turns into a deafening chant between the six of them, repeated over and over again.

Shots ring out all around, followed by an intense silence—as if everything had frozen, and everyone standing watch is holding their vents in. The clones are the first to go down, their armor not nearly thick enough to take the heavy firepower upon them, and they collapse almost instantly as their frames fade to gray. Shockwave soon follows Sunstorm and Ramjet to the ground as a shot goes right through his optic, exiting the back of his helm in an instant.

Next to fall is Blitzwing. The glass of his cockpit shatters under the heavy fire, sending glimmering black shards in all directions, before round-after-round are then able to enter his spark-chamber.

Lugnut and Strika take far longer to fall, as their thick armor does not give in to the firepower. And then, the massive mech's five optics all flicker, before falling dark—a single coolant tear slips from the corner of one of the femme's optics when she can feel the bond shattered between them. The femme is dragged to the ground by the other large DeceptiCon—but, whether the fire raining down on them, or the breaking of the bond is what offlines Strika, would forever be unclear.

AutoBots gather around six frames, neon pink Energon pooling around them all. All six frames are now faded to gunmetal gray, optics black, and spark-chambers now laying empty within them all. The Elite Guards' gazes rake over these frames in disgust—oh, what a waste of recourses and scientific discovery…

From the clones, to the Triple-Changer, to the scientist, and the hulking mech and femme, there would never again be a breath vented, a smile given to or received from, a laugh heard exiting their vocalizers. DeceptiCons were not as cruel as the AutoBots let on—they were accepting, forgiving, and would _never_ turn one down for being a bit… Different. The proof is right at the pedes of Sentinel Prime as he approaches them, lip-plates twisted into a snarl. Two clones—a suck-up, and a liar—were allowed to fight for the cause, even though their template and creator could never be trusted. A scientist who, yes, may have done his fair share of experimenting on others, was highly respected and even looked up to by others within—and sometimes even some out of—the Faction due to his accomplishments. A Triple-Changer with three minds inside of him, and far from being stable and predictable, was allowed to remain in the Faction without anyone attempting to remove his brothers' minds in order to make his thought-process ,easier'. A massive mech who had to be led in the right direction for his power to be used correctly was never caged after he left the battlefield. A femme with amazing resemblance to a mech's frame was not looked down upon for her gender, and was a _General_ , of all things!

It was something that the AutoBots would _never_ understand, or at least be willing to.

All gazes shift to Strika and Lugnut; even in death, their servos remain tightly locked together…


End file.
